Scattered Pieces
by scarletcriminal
Summary: The remnants of Andy's toys band together to search for lost friends. As they trek across the Mojave Wasteland on their way to an old Toy Factory, they face plenty of dangers and get mixed up in quite a lot of trouble.
1. Chapter One

**Scattered Pieces - A Fallout New Vegas and Toy Story 3 Crossover**

**Written by: Scarletcriminal**

**Author's Note: **_This story does have mild swears, sexual references, drug references, smoking, alcohol, fighting, death, blood, and toys. It is NOT a children's story. It is based off of the game Fallout: New Vegas which is an M (for Mature) rated game. Thus, be aware that this story is for mature readers, so do not complain to me about it being too adult. Thank you._

**Edit: **_I fixed some errors- Triple proofreading your translations/grammar/everything really helps. And now, the story begins..._

* * *

_War. War never changes. When atomic fire consumed the earth, those who survived did so in great, underground vaults. When they opened, their inhabitants set out across ruins of the old world to build new societies, establish new villages, form new tribes. But the vast majority of ruins stayed just as they were as the survivors found that the world around them was harder to rebuild than they'd thought._

_And in those ruins were the things of the past that had been left behind and forgotten. (Fallout, New Vegas)_

* * *

Footsteps traveled over the rubble and passed by quickly. A few more followed behind, their leather and spikes and chains rattling. The smell of blood and grime was heavy on them, and they could be smelled even from across the remains of the room.

Silence.

"Okay, they're gone. It's safe, guys."

Woody became animated as he spoke, getting to his feet and brushing some dust off of his worn and ratty vest.

Hamm and Potato head slowly emerged from beneath a burnt plank, pulling a silenced 10mm pistol with them.

"Everyone alright?" Hamm called out. The years had taken their toll on the poor pink piggy bank. He'd seen things no toy should ever have to see, and it had roughed him up so badly that he feared he'd never be himself again. No longer was he the wise-cracking humor-loving showoff he once was; he was too serious and stone cold. But he was always loyal.

Potato Head gave a nod as he looked around. He would have been more verbal in his answer, but he had lost his mouth long ago, and no one knew where to look for it. At first, not hearing him constantly doubting the plans of Woody and Jessie seemed like a blessing to their ears, but they soon found that they longed to hear another familiar voice as a sort of comfort. However, they were sure Potato had probably become even more depressed and harsher than Hamm; but they still stuck together through it all. And Potato had fantastic aim.

Slinky Dog dropped a bobby pin by Woody's feet.

"Thanks, Slink," Woody said. He picked it up and walked over to Jessie who was sitting against a torched wall, holding what was left of her yarn hair. It was faded to a very dull red and practically unraveling in her hands.

"Here, Jess, try this," Woody offered. He took the pin and pulled her hair into it, tucking it up on top of her head and tugging her hat over it.

"There you go. Looks good." He tried to sound sincere and smile at her. She stayed focused on the horizon. Woody sighed.

"Come on, Jessie. We'll find them."

"When, Woody? Why don't we just give up? They could be anywhere. For all we know, some asshole Legionnaire picked them up and crucified them on tiny crosses in front of some little slave kids. Or a fiend tossed them to hungry dogs. Or-,"

"Jessie!" Woody couldn't stand when she got into these moods.

After staying still for awhile, Jessie's mind would wander too far and she'd start thinking about Dolly or Mr. Prickle Pants and especially Buzz. Woody, no matter how hard he tried not to, thought of Buzz sometimes too. He missed him terribly, and had to focus on other things to keep his spirits as high as possible.

"Come on, Jess. We've still got Rex and Trixie, and Hamm, Potato Head, and Slinky. And you and I, we've got each other." He kneeled by her and took her hand in his own.

"And where are we headed?"

She sighed. After a bit of silence, she replied in a low voice.

"The toy factory."

"You're darn right! The toy factory. And we'll find spare parts and paint and yarn. And we'll find Buzz and all the others already there and waiting for us!"

He knew she wanted to argue. Jessie sure could argue. He knew she would have liked to say,

"Yeah. Or we'll just find the place overrun with raiders who will torture us and blow us up."

But she didn't. And they had to start moving to keep their thoughts to a minimum. Moving always helped.

"Alright, everyone, let's get a move on!"

* * *

It's understandably hard for a group of toys to make their way across the Mojave Wasteland. In the first place, it's dangerous for any fully grown person. And fully grown people can carry plenty of supplies like ammunition and weapons with them. But for toys, it's a bit more difficult. Sure, toys don't need to eat even though they can taste, and toys don't need to drink even though they can talk, but there's still plenty of danger for them.

Therefore, toys have to defend themselves. Sometimes, defense can be pretty simple. When it comes to things like Ants or Rad-Scorpions, they have to quickly lie down and act like they are; objects. AS long as they didn't taste good (and they didn't), the bugs and such would be disinterested and leave so the toys could slip away.

However, they had to worry about humans. And, unlike those that walked tall and free on two legs, the toys had absolutely no chance to reason with them. If a human spotted a suspicious movement, they'd be shot at. Even though they couldn't really be hurt by these wounds, they could still be damaged. And there were times when a toy became just too damaged to continue on. Justifiably, there's only so much some plastic or felt can take before it becomes just that; melted plastic or some felt in a pile. So was the case with a familiar friend and loved one, but we won't get into that just now.

Without the ability to reason, the toys just had to drop down and hide the best they could. If a human happened upon them and ripped off an arm- - perhaps to use the cotton inside to wipe some blood off their mouth- - they had to let them. They feared that if they spoke up, the human would do one of two things.

The human would think they were just seriously messed up on chems. The toys prayed for this situation if it ever came to it, for the human would probably just throw the toy back down with a shake of their head. Or,

The human would be amazed and wonder what sort of pre-war technology was inside the "robot" allowing it to speak and recognize interaction. That's why the group feared the people seeking out technology; they had night terrors where people ripped them apart as if dissecting them to see what power they possessed.

Of course, plenty of other things could happen.

Being separated, however, was their greatest fear. And that's why they always stuck together during their treks across the desert.

Trixie and Rex would stay up in the front, each with a small pouch attached to them to carry bullets and other small objects the group collected. Trixie was fond of cigarettes. She'd blackened the plastic lining of her insides by smoking so often. It comforted her, however, and the toys didn't mind so much since she hardly ever complained about anything and was actually quite pleasant. When she was in a good mood, Trixie could say things to cheer them up, or she would sing or tell jokes. She wasn't too bad at either, thanks to her creativity.

Rex still adored her, but the tyrannosaur was far from being the cowardly worrier he once was. The years had transformed Rex, and he was probably the toughest of them all. He was never afraid of anything and would charge right into any problem or danger they faced. He regarded Trixie's safety above his own at all times, and would not hesitate to jump in front of her and protect her. In fact, he would do the same for all of his friends. Rex was determined, maybe even more determined than Woody. You could see it in his eyes.

Slinky stuck in the middle as they walked. They used him to carry the pistol as Hamm and Potato Head walked on either side. Woody and Jessie moved depending on several factors; the weather, the danger level, the terrain. But it could be said that they usually stuck close together. It was a bit of a rigorous cycle that the others were getting tired of. Sometimes, the cow-folk would be really intimate on the journey. They'd hold hands as they walked and would speak in hushed voices to one another. Then, the next time the gang found and abandoned shack to stay in for the night, the two would go somewhere for some privacy and spend some time forgetting about their troubles.

The morning after, though, Woody would want to get out quickly and continue the journey before the sun was out. Jessie and Woody would be far apart during the trip, then, and it could get pretty awkward between the two. But the cycle always worked itself around again.

It happened to be towards the end of the routine. Jess and Woody were getting really comfortable with each other again, and Woody was kind of anxious to find a sturdy place to stay.

He wasn't the only one, either. All of the others were getting tired of having to constantly duck behind rocks and rubble to hide themselves. Even though they had a gun, Woody was avid in his belief that it should never be used against a person.

Early on, Hamm was getting hot-headed after a pretty terrible encounter that the toys hate recalling. Hamm grabbed the pistol and began to aim it at a nearby fiend, but Woody intervened.

"They may be awful, but they were kids once, Hamm!"

"So what?" Hamm spat. "If they had toys, they burned them!"

"Or maybe their toys were taken away. We aren't going to be taking their lives away. We are not sinking to their level."

It was decided from then on that they would only use the weapon in absolute desperation.

Woody was terrified of that day which he knew would eventually come.

But for now, the team continued on, wondering what they would face next in the unforgiving Mojave Wasteland.

_To be continued…_

* * *

_(A/N: I realize the number of people who can read this and understand it is very slim. After all, how many people who play Fallout: New Vegas have also enjoyed Toy Story and read fanfiction? But I'm hoping someone out there appreciates such a strange mix of my favorite fandoms... And even if they don't I will keep writing this masterpiece :) ~Louise )_


	2. Chapter Two

**A/N: My first update to any story in quite a time for personal reasons. Enjoy.**

* * *

"_When the road looks rough ahead and you're miles and miles from your nice warm bed…you've got a friend in me"_

_ -Toy Story (You've Got a Friend in Me)_

* * *

By nightfall, the group had tucked themselves beneath a scorched porch of an old wooden shed. Woody leaned against a wobbling board jutting from the ground and sighed.

"They say the Legion's closing in on the area. Do you figure that'll have any impact on us?"

Hamm answered,

"The Legion is a heartless bunch of immature men. If they take over Vegas, everyone will be just too miserable for toys."

Jessie buried her head against Woody's shoulder.

"I don't even remember what it was like to be played with anymore."

The others took a moment to think back. They each had a different recollection of the events leading up to their separation. Although their separate view points allowed for different versions, some aspects stayed the same throughout all their stories. They missed those days now more than ever.

The farthest back Woody could remember was sitting in the living room. Buzz was lifting Jessie onto his back, and then running in circles on the carpet and jumping onto furniture while she laughed hysterically. The radio was on, playing a station that their owner had liked. Try as they might, none of the toys could remember his name. They remembered him as a tall young man with dark hair who had a little girl. The little girl was sweet to them, and Woody could remember her taking them to bed and tucking them in special places before she slept.

The house was not in great condition, but it was better than a lot of places that were around. The stairs creaked loudly, but at least they still worked. While the carpet was dirty, it was soft enough for a comfortable afternoon nap, and the old radio worked just fine.

Dolly took a seat next to Woody, smiling and making an offhand comment about the weather or something insignificant that the cowboy couldn't recall; it had seemed so unimportant at the time. But he could remember the sound of her voice as she said,

"_He should be back in half an hour. They were going out to scavenge a place a few miles away and they left early this morning."_

"_Isn't that dangerous?"_ Rex replied nervously. Trixie rolled her eyes.

"_They'll be fine, Rexy."_ She cast a smile in his direction.

But she was wrong.

"_Get on the god damned floor,"_ a voice commanded, throwing the girl onto the carpet with a loud thud.

The next thing Woody could remember was being thrown onto the window ledge and landing in a crumpled mess on his back with Rex at his feet. The door had been kicked open violently and there stood several men in matching suits. One stepped forward, combing back his black hair and brushing the sleeve of his checkered jacket with his hand after returning the comb to his pocket.

"_Are you going to tell us what we need to know, little girl?"_

The girl shook violently as the men moved about the room. One or two of them scraped their feet over Dolly intentionally, causing one of Woody's hands to ball into a tight fist. Jessie stayed tucked behind the lone chair in the room, being held in Buzz's arms protectively. Hamm and the Potatoes lay still, not daring to move at all. The girl still gave no answer.

It seemed like an eternity before the leading man spoke again.

"_No answer, eh doll face? Well, looks like you're out of uses for the world. It's better that you don't go spreading rumors. Don't bother thanking me; I'm just playing by the rules of the game."_

Each of the toys watched in horror as the gun released its caged beast on the girl. She became an unmoving figure on the stained carpet.

A smirk spread on his face, and the last words they heard from him were,

"_Ring a ding ding. Let's agitate the gravel, boys,"_

Woody shuddered. Playtime was nonexistent in this new world. For some reason, the game was no longer make-believe a story. It wasn't pretend. When something happened, it was permanent and there was no laughing and changing of the story after snack time.

The toys hated this new game which was never fair. And silently they'd decided that they would be the ones to end it.

* * *

Woody felt the familiar slightly tickling crawling sensation running down his pant leg. He groaned and grabbed hold of his ankle, pinching the fabric until the bug was thoroughly smashed to death.

He shuddered, pulling open a part of the stitching and removing the fuzz from inside his leg.

"Jess, could you check the mattress stuffing a little better next time? Yeesh," he tossed the soiled gray and red stuff away, propping up his dangling leg.

"Sorry," Jessie replied, only half-heartedly. She was busy stuffing her own body and threw a little fluff at him to try. "You could look at what you're doing there instead of day dreaming about who-knows-what."

Trixie took a drag from her cigarette.

"Stop arguing you two. It's pointless."

"We aren't arguing, Trix. Does anyone know where we're going?"

Hamm nodded.

"There's some sort town we'll be coming across with a giant dinosaur. Potato and I heard some NCR troopers talking about a run-down place to stay. It should be safe."

"Good. Did you happen to catch word of how many people are there?"

"It's not that big a town. There's an empty oil station across from the entrance, that's where we want to go."

"Great."

The toys didn't say much. On hot days like these, when they had a certain goal, they often travelled in a comfortable silence through the desert terrain.

"Well boy howdy," Slink breathed. "Would you look at that?"

In the distance the gang could spot a faded figure. A giant dinosaur with its mouth wide open.

"He doesn't look that tough," Rex said simply, continuing in front. The air was suddenly split by a deafening crack. Had the toys had blood, it would have run cold.

Potato Head fell over backwards.

"Holy shit!" Hamm exclaimed. He and the others inspected the fresh crack running through the plastic spud's front. They could see the aching in Potato's eyes; not because the injury hurt his lifeless shell but because that same shell used to be filled with something. Bits of Playdough? An extra set of shoes? No, something more. It used to be filled with courage and spunk. Wit. Humor. Life. And now he had the scar to remind him how broken he really was.

Woody, curious as always, reached in and pulled out the silver piece of metal that had pierced his companion and inspected it. Something clicked inside his head.

"DROP!"

The toys instinctively fell to the sand at the word. They stopped their breath, waiting for what felt like an eternity.

Craig Boone, in the late hours of his shift and early breaking of the dawn, stared through his scope, trying to get a better look at what he'd just shot at. Seeing a group of limp toys he groaned.

"I really need some sleep," he said flatly. Standing and putting away his sniper rifle, Boone opened the door to the gift shop inside the dinosaur statue.

"Cliff," Boone said sternly to the gift shop's worker, "Leave your toys out of my firing range. You'll go get them now if you know what's good for you."

Cliff swallowed, wiping at his nose nervously.

"Uh…yeah. Uh, what toys again?"

"The trash by the rocks outside. Pick it up."

"...Yeah. Yeah sure."

Boone sighed in his normal fashion and left without another word. Cliff picked up an old cardboard box and decided to check out what it was Boone was talking about.

Meanwhile, Trixie gasped, coming to life suddenly.

"Is it safe?" She asked cautiously.

"I don't know," Woody answered, slowly sitting up. As soon as he did, he flopped back down with a gasp of his own.

"What? What did you see?" Jessie frantically asked in a low whisper.

"Someone is headed this way. With a box."

"A box?"

"Who is it!"

The toys stared at the cowboy, horrified.

Woody's voice dropped to a low, grave whisper.

"We've been spotted."

* * *

**A/N: What do you think? Feedback is always appreciated. Thank you!**


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